User blog:Bluefang the Ferret/Klitch, son of the Assassin

A young ferret dashes through the vermin camp, clad in a green tunic which was tailored to fit him unlike most corpesmakers who where in tattered uniforms and tunics and carying a motley assort of weaponrey from javelins to hatchets, bows and arrows to slings, sicles to rusty corsair cutlasses. The ferret had no weapons. Dashing through the crowd he arrived at a tent. "Klitch?" A young weasel opens the tent. "Yeah, Goffa?" "Well, I was wondering..." The weasel smiled. "Course yew can come in, yer my pal remember?" Goffa looked surprised "I ain't talkin' `bout that, yer fadder's `bout ta execute some'un!" Klitch pushed Goffa aside and looked at his father who was in the center of the circle. "So, wot?" "`E's wants everyone dere ta see it." Klitch scoffed. "Just to see the skinny lunatic slay a rat fer lookin' at `im the wrong way? Yew wish!" A young fox exits the tent with another weasel and a young vixen. "Ya better come back in, Klitch." He warned. "Ye'll get us beatin' ta doll rags fer talkin' like that" Klitch laughs "Wot do yew know `bout manners, Stripey, yer a corsair!" The fox smiled thinly. "Well, guess yer right, dere, Klitchy" "`Ey you bunch!" A stoat twirled a sling expertly. He had a hood covering his eyes and a purple kilt. "Wotcha all doin' `ere, I thought Nipear told youse ter come an' watch!" Klitch and Stripecoat pulled out swords from their belts. Klitch happily grinned while the fox gigled uncontrollably. "Wot's so funny? I, OUCH!" He dropped the sling and grabbed hold of his ancle, which started bleeding. He looked up and blacked out.